Nobody arrives at a clinic saying they have yin deficiency. They arrive saying they wake at three, or that their skin has flared again, or that they have been tired since the spring. The tradition’s own examination begins there too. Of the four classical ways of gathering information — 望闻问切, looking, listening, asking and feeling the pulse — asking is the largest, and asking begins with the complaint, in the words the person uses for it.
These six pages are written in that order. Each starts from the word you may have arrived with and says plainly that we do not use it, because the tradition never gathered complaints under those headings. Then it walks to what the tradition does instead: the classical name and the texts that first described it, the pictures it is usually sorted into, what makes it heavier and what eases it, what the kitchen has traditionally offered, one point you can press yourself, and the line past which a page is the wrong tool.
Two things they are not. They are not a list of illnesses, and they do not name yours; the word at the top of each page is a complaint, not a verdict. And they are not a substitute for the reading, which is the one place a person’s thirty answers and their tongue are read together and one picture is chosen. A page has to describe every picture a complaint can hide. A reading is allowed to choose.